TW:R Prequel: Coffee and Tea
by torchwoodtimelord
Summary: Ianto Jones was made immortal against his will. Now he understands Jack's point of perspective a lot better... And because of this he keeps running. But when a past mistake catches up with him, he finds there's more to immortality than guilt and loss.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:**_ Coffe and Tea  
><em>**Series**: _Torchwood: Resurrection - Prequels_  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse<strong>: Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Ianto/OC  
><strong>Author:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

**IMPORTANT NOTES FOR READING THIS FIC!:**

_blocks of text in italics - dreams/day dreams/memories_  
><strong>bold italics - thoughts<strong>  
>plain text is plain text<p>

* * *

><p><em>He pinned me down against the rough wood of the pavillion floor. His hair was wet, a mixture of sweat and rain. A knee planted on either side of my hips, but my arms left unrestrained. By the orange glow of the streetlamps I could barely make out his face.<em>

_Was he smiling at me?_

_I could feel his brown eyes digging into me in desperation, searching my face in the dark. For what? I only looked back up at him, curious as to why he had stopped. Why he had pulled himself up to sit when things were just starting to get... good._

_I raised an arm to slide into his open uniform shirt. He looked so good in black and white. I slipped my fingers into the waistband of his trousers._

_"I love you," he said as he looked down at me._

_"James, I-" I began, but let it trail off. His hair dripped onto my chest as he leaned in, planting a hand on the wooden floorboards beside my head to keep himself steady as he towered over me._

_"I can't bear being without you," he said. "I can't... I can't stay on this slow path alone anymore."_

_"What are you saying?"_

_In the shadows on his face, I could see those brown eyes flash. And in them I was transfixed by starlight as he lowered his face to mine. His breath was hot as I felt it on my face. It smelled of tea and limes and some odd spice. Chai perhaps? "Marry me, Quincy."_

* * *

><p>"Verta!" a gruff voice shouted, snapping me from my daydream. "Get back to work!"<p>

I rubbed my face with a groan and looked at the clock. Nearly time for lunch.

_**Why am I still thinking about him?**_

I put my hands to the keyboard and scowled as I scanned the screen in front of me. Eyes skimming the lines of data to see where I'd last left off.

_**It's been over a year. I'm just... It couldn't have worked out. I'm old enough to be his grandfather. Great grandfather possibly. You're immortal, old man. He wasn't. Isn't.**_

I adjusted my headset and resumed typing. I'd fallen behind on my sales numbers for the day already. If I didn't push through my cold calls before lunch I would never meet the goal thrust on me today.

_**Focus old man. You can't afford to lose this job. Not if you want to eat.**_

I sighed, checked the clock again, and made the first of many calls.

What I hadn't planned for was to have a bullet whizz past my head and bury itself into my monitor.

Chaos reigned on the 22nd floor of the Compu-Touch building and half the sales office was gunned down by our mail courrier.

I wasn't so lucky as to be one of them.

**o0o**

I sat quietly on the middle chair. A styrofoam cup of water held between my hands. Unlike the others I wasn't afraid when the shooting started. I wasn't in shock. I can't die, but that wasn't it. I've faced down far worse things than employees with an axe to grind. Daleks, for a start. And that was a typical Saturday morning. I was contemplating how to dissapear.

The murder of my coworkers had nothing to do with me. I was nearly a victim myself if only he'd been a better shot. But a massacre of this scale, surely the press would be all over it. I couldn't risk getting caught. There was always the threat of UNIT hanging over my head...

"Next."

I looked up. A uniform beckoned to me. I'd purposely waited near the back. Tried to be the last one dragged in on the hope that they'd have more than enough witnesses. I'd be another nameless excuse they could cut loose.

I got to my feet and went to the door. She nodded and I went in. Two men were inside. One stood with his head bowed in thought. Shaggy, unkempt brown hair hid most of his face. His chin, the only part of it I could see, was covered in stubble.

Arms were crossed over his chest. One foot, a dirty, dark red sneaker, was pressed against the wall, causing his knee to jut out. A spiral notebook lay across it.

"Please have a seat," said the man at the table. This one was far more clean-cut.

As I sat across from him he smiled. I could see lines around his neck where his shirt collar began. A strange blue and black pattern was spread there. And as he opened his mouth I saw green and yellow, not fleshy red and pink.

He smiled kindly to me. "Do not be alarmed," he said. "I am Agent Segawa of UNIT Alien Affairs. The... incident today was instigated by Mr. Henry Anderson, mail room staff, correct?"

I nodded, glancing to the other man with us.

"You have worked for Compu-Touch for..." He consulted his notes. "Eighteen months. Is that correct?"

Again I nodded. He rewared me with a yellow smile. "Good," he said, then reached a gloved hand for the digital recorder on the table between us.

He pressed record and spoke. He gave the date and time, the purpose of the recording, then his name. I said mine.

Segawa glanced at the other, who didn't make a move. With a exasperated sigh he returned to the recorder. "Observing today is Detective Harborne on loan from the NYPD, 48th Precinct."

The third man only grunted in response as he turned a page in his notebook. I looked at him again, but he didn't look up. My heart beat quickly.

Agent Segawa must have noticed how uncomfortable I had become and looked concerned. "Are you alright, Mr. Verta?"

I swallowed hard and willed myself to keep it together.

_**It's a common enough surname. Besides, he's in Iowa. This is New York. He couldn't have followed me. I never told him I was even leaving.**_

"Yes... Yes. I'm alright. I guess I'm a bit shaken after all."

"Not surprising. You managed to get many of your associates to safety at the risk of your own life," Agent Segawa said. "We'll try to make this brief. How long have you been aquainted with Mr. Anderson of the mail room?"

"Not long," I said. "I've only met him a few times when he brought me my mail. I didn't even know his name until June."

Segawa nodded. "Were you aware that Mr. Anderson was a registered resident alien on planet Earth?"

_**Figures... Alien immigrant. Literally. What's this world coming to these days?**_

"No. Like I said, I didn't know him well."

"I see..." Segawa said, then consulted his notes again. As he did so, the third wheel spoke.

My heart caught in my throat as I heard the voice for the first time since that night in the lakeside pavillion.

"Do you consider yourself a good judge of character, Mr. Verta?"

I swallowed hard again and nodded, then said for the recording, "Yes."

"In your limited interactions with Mr. Anderson did you ever get the suspicion that he could become violent?"

"No," I said truthfully. "No. He was on those few occasions a cheerful sort. He liked to tell jokes, I remember."

"Is there any-" Segawa started.

Detective Harborne came to the table, his notebook tucked under his arm. He shut off the recording. "He doesn't know anything."

"We need the details of-"

"He doesn't know anything," the Detective repeated.

"This is highly irregular. UNIT policy states-"

"UNIT can bite my scrawny ass," he barked back bitterly.

This was not the hopeful, bright eyed rookie cop I'd left behind in Stoneybrook. "He's useless. Cut him loose."

And like that, he was gone. I stared after him until Agent Segawa put a card on the table. "Don't leave town," he warned, following the detective.

Now alone in the impromptu interrogation room, I sat with my head in my hands, trying to figure out what to do next.

**o0o**

I was allowed to leave. Not much work to do if your place of employment is a crime scene.

Back at my flat I curled up under a pile of blankets on my couch, attempting to keep warm. A cup of instant coffee, disgusting decaf, was drained and left on the hardwood beside the couch as I burried myself deeper.

Curled up as I was, it wasn't difficult to fall asleep and escape my troublesome reality...

* * *

><p><em>We'd gone back to mine. We always went back to mine; he still lived in the station bunkhouse. I didn't give him an answer. He didn't demand it of me. I was grateful for that.<em>

_I'd woken first and was trying to sort out what I was going to do. Sitting on the side of my bed, his chest rising and falling behind me as he breathed the shallow breaths of a deep, contented sleep. I looked back over my shoulder at him._

_He was smiling._

_He was strong and intelligent and young._

_**Young.**_

_But he wouldn't be that way forever. He would waste away before my eyes. Each day one step closer to the inevitable._

_"Damn you, Jack," I whispered quietly to myself, not for the first time. But I suppose... this is exactly how Jack Harkness must have felt all those years ago. Every time he looked at me. Every time he touched..._

_I turned back to face my wardrobe, covering my face with my hands._

_I had to leave. I had to run again. Leave this bright man, this brilliant, wonderful man to live his life without the burden of me. Without looking at me every day and hating me for staying the same while he changed before my eyes._

_It was... an act of kindness._

_If I tell myself that long enough, maybe I'll believe my own lie._

* * *

><p><strong>AN 1 - **First time in a VERY long time I've written in first person. So... sorry if it's a bit... off. Seriously, it's been something like 5 years or so since I've done anything longer than a short story first person thing. So yeah... Promise I'll get better (reading a lot of books written in first person pov lately).  
><strong>AN 2 -** This is one of the prequels for James Harborne and Quincy Verta from the Resurrection!Verse tales. There's 2 prequels for them planned. One written in Ianto's pov, another written from James' at different points in time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:**_ Coffee and Tea  
><em>**Series**: _Torchwood: Resurrection - Prequels_  
><strong>Fandoms:<strong> Doctor Who/Torchwood  
><strong>Fic!Verse<strong>: Resurrection!Verse  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Ianto/OC  
><strong>Author:<strong> TWTL

_**DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.**_

**IMPORTANT NOTES FOR READING THIS FIC!:**

_blocks of text in italics - dreams/day dreams/memories_  
><strong>bold italics - thoughts<strong>  
>plain text is plain text<p>

* * *

><p>I'd woken to the sound of an alarm, followed by a loud and obnoxious radio DJ insisting that polka is the new black metal of the decade.<p>

I'd switched it off, gotten dressed, and left. My bank balance told me I didn't have the funds to run just yet. A week, maybe two. Time enough to get a few more paychecks in.

My second job, my night job, is much like my day job. But instead of telemarketing, it's data entry. Ones, zeroes, and the occasional decimal point. Names and numbers. Lists and charts.

I arrived late, having been unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching me as I left the subway a few stations early to take the bus in an attemot to lose whoever it was. Once in my cubicle I felt more at ease.

I spent most of my night working with earphones in and the InfoNet turned to BBC Wales.

Despite my best efforts, James Harborne was still on my mind.

* * *

><p><em>I sat by the fountain with my book and a coffee. Seemed like a good day for it. The sun was bright, the day a bit chilly. I'd left my jacket at the office.<em>

_A shadow suddenly cast over my book. "You're in my light."_

_"Sorry, mate."_

_I looked up. Big brown eyes were staring back down at him. "This'll sound weird," he began. "But pretend you know me."_

_"What?"_

_"Blind date. Sinking fast. Need lifeboat," he said, then turned and stepped a little to the side. An attractive redheaded woman was approaching. Before I could protest, he hailed her._

_"Oh, hey," he said when she reached us. "Yeah, sorry I wandered. Saw an old buddy of mine from Dixie. Fancy that!"_

_**Oh he's a horrible liar...**_

_She eyed him suspiciously. "Well, don't be rude Jack. Introduce me."_

_He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, getting to that. Maria, this is..."_

_I sighed, having little choice but to play along. I offered my hand. "Quincy. A pleasure." I smiled at her, but my eyes were instead on this young man. This Jack. That's when I decided to add to his troubles rather than help. After all, he had greatly inconvenienced me._

_"You didn't say you're from Dixie," Maria said, sounding pleased with the new information she had learned about her companion. "I've got family there, too. How did you escape the Conscription?"_

_"Well," I said before he could answer. "We ran away together. It was all really exciting. Especially when we reached Texecana." I forced superficial happiness into my voice. This Jack started to look worried. "When they asked to see our papers, he said we were political refugees, which wasn't too far off the mark."_

_"Really?" she asked, sitting beside me._

_I nodded. "Oh yes. It was rather..." And that's when I trailed off, knowing I had her._

_She leaned in. I could see his face. A mask of confusion and regret in his choise of help from a random stranger. "Rather what?" she pressed._

_"Oh, you really aren't interrested," I said, opening my book back up._

_She looked to Jack for an explanation. He looked just as dumbfounded. I smiled evily._

_"Come come, Jack. You remember what happened. I mean, after a hot night like that, I know I won't."_

_And the hammer fell. The young man's cheeks burned at my lie. I couldn't tell if it was anger or embarrassment. But it was funny. And I didn't elaborate. I said only, "Oh, I'm sure he'll tell you about it someday. Well... maybe not all the details..."_

_My words hung in the air. He reached to grab her hand. She stood and slapped it away before slapping him across his face, assuming the worst about this otherwise handsome man. As she stormed off, he chased after her, calling her name._

_**Oh... youth. Pity they ran off. I was actually having fun...**_

* * *

><p>I looked up to see Arnold Hobbes looking over the side of my cubicle at me. "What?" I asked.<p>

He stared at me a moment longer.

"What?" I repeated, annoyed.

"I think that's the first time anyone's ever seen you smile in this place."

I scowled at him. "There's the Quin we all know," he said with a laugh.

"I wasn't smiling."

He shrugged. "I know what I saw, man," he pushed up his glasses.

"Any particular reason you're breathing in my air and fouling up my hub with your... well you've got shit breath, Arnie. Do you even brush those teeth?"

_**Joking to the point of being rude. Friendly, but blunt. That's the Quin they all know. That's the man they think I am.**_

He nodded as if suddenly remembered he'd left the telly on. "Yeah. Martina from the upper floors was looking for you earlier. Something about CompuTouch. Were you working there today, man?"

I sighed, took my headphones off and lay them to the side of my keyboard.

"You were, weren't you?"

"No comment." I rose and left my cubicle. Arnold was busy gossiping as I entered the lift at the far side of the room.

When the doors closed with me inside I rubbed my face with both my hands. Martina, my supervisor's boss, was not someone you wanted to be called up to see. It usually ended with pink slips, blood, and a restraining order. At least, when it was someone from the night shift.

I had only met her once at the company New Years party this last January. A frightfully attractive woman... but so were all women in power. Even Gwen had a certain charm whenever she took charge of things.

The lift sounded. The doors parted.

My breath caught in my throat. Looking back at me from behind shaggy bangs and a stubbly jaw was Detective Harborne, a straw hanging from his mouth. It bobbed some as he chewed on the end. Beside him was Agent Segawa.

"Pleasant night, Mr. Verta," Segawa said cheerfully, then stepped aside to make room for me. The Detective didn't move. Instead he pulled the chewed straw from his mouth.

"You get around," he said when I stepped around him. "Carefull you don't jinx this place, too."

"Detective!" Segawa snapped angrily. I heard James laugh bitterly behind me.

I bit my tongue and walked on, eager to learn what Martina wanted with me, and why the NYPD and UNIT both felt the need to follow me around.

o0o

The employee lounge was a roach den compared to the personal office of Martina Valasquez-Robins. It was palatial. Marble, real marble flooring. The wall behind the desk was end to end aquarium. Inside swam sharks among the seaweed floating and drifting with the false current.

The woman herself was standing at a row of windows, her back to me and the door.

I coughed to announce my presence.

"Have a seat," she said, then turned.

I obliged, sitting in one of the uncomfortable chairs available before her desk.

"I just had an enlightening conversation with the police." She now faced me fully. "They tell me CompuTouch was the target of a terrorist attack. No doubt another of those Alien Rights groups going hostile again."

"What's this go to do with me?" I asked, then added a respectful, "Miss Robins."

She smiled the sweet, false smile of corporate greed. A smile I recognized as a mirror of my own falsehood. I sighed and leaned back in the chair.

She walked with her hands behind her back, an air of arrogance. Of self-importance. Her wild blue eyes watched me carefully as she moved to have a seat behind her desk. The sharks in the tank suddenly swam away from the middle of the wall... Almost as if sensing a higher predator nearby. "Why haven't you filed a report on today's events yet?"

"Nearly dying takes a lot out of a man. I had to sleep sometime."

She nodded, tapping a violet manicured nail on her desk. "I'm pulling you off the CompuTouch assignment."

"What?" I asked, feining insult. "Why? I've been working that angle since I started here. It's why you hired me."

_**Not that I honestly care... Was planning to leave soon anyway...**_

"You were noticed, Quincy."

"By who?"

"Must I repeat myself. Apparently NYPD has had their eye on you for some time. It's better this way. You'll be reassigned." She smiled again. It made me sick... "I can't have my best little spy mixed up in political terrorism. It's bad for business." She gave a small wave of her hand. She was done with me. I stood and she gave me that same false innocent look again. "Don't forget your report. I look forward to some light reading at breakfast."

If I didn't need the money...

I left her office, standing outside the door with a drawn expression. Head down, I walked back toward the lift. Rubbing my eyes, I yawn turned into a drawn out groan.

_**Just a few more days, old man. Then you can run again. I'm Ianto bloody Jones. I can do anything...**_

This thought calmed me down later when I returned to my cubicle. But my centeredness was short lived when I spotted the blue post-it tacked up among my generic office humour clippings.

The victorian style of handwriting caught me off guard. At first I thought it to be from my Captain... Looking around I realized no. If he'd found me, if he were here, he would have waited. He would have searched the building for me. He would have taken me with him, making the most spectacular show of obnoxiousness possible. That's the kind of man Captain Jack Harkness was...

When I looked at the note again, I noticed the slight tilt of each carefully crafted letter. A gentle turn to the left. And the name the author used. He hadn't addressed it to _Ianto_ or _Quincy_ as I expected.

No... it was addressed to _Blackbird_. And it told me where to meet him.

I snatched it down with a sigh. Arnold poked his head up over the cubicle wall.

"So?" he asked, then saw my face. I must have been visibly upset because he said next, "Pink slip? Hey, it's alright man. Happens all the time-"

"I wasn't fired." My voice was harsher than usual. harsher than I'd ever used on poor Hobbs. I sighed again. "Just... given a new project."

Hobbs gave me a wink. I put my headphones on but let the set slip down to rest around the back of my neck. "Arnold?"

"Yeah Q?"

"Did you see anyone in here?"

He shook his head. "No, man. Why?"

"Nothing," I said, giving a false smile. Polite but embarrassed. "My stapler was out of place is all," I lied.

_**Nothing but lies. Is this all I am now? He's such a nice guy. Ex-wife, 4 kids, plays Warcraft on the weekends. Bit of a hippie... No. Don't think about it too much. It's better, this way.**_

"Righhht..." he said. "OCD. Gotcha."

"Just a touch," I replied. Light, fake laugh. Put him at ease.

We chatted idly a little longer before he made an excuse to get to work. I covered my ears with the headphones and opened a new window.

I began my final report on CompuTouch, attatching the files I had managed to download before my computer was destroyed. Nothing much, really. Sales figures, product charts, merger plans. Typical corporate bullshit.

As I typed, I wondered how I get into these things... But how was I supposed to know the life I'd stolen was from a dead industrial espianage operative in hiding from the equivalent of the corporate mafia?

* * *

><p><em>"Hey, Blackbird!"<em>

_I sighed. Inwardly I groaned._

_Since that day this poor fool had tried to use me to get out of his blind date, he's beena nuisance. My lunch breaks, once peaceful moments spent in solitude by a relaxing fountain were now the most annoying chore of my day._

_I had tried lunching elsewhere for a while. That hadn't lasted long... The boy had found me hiding in the Starbucks across the street while he was lunching with a few cops._

_Taking my break at the office was also out. My fifth day of it was shattered when he caught me kicking a vending machine in frustration, That was how I discovered this Jack fellow was actually a cadet at the police academy... where I am currently temping while the normal receptionist is taking a sebaticle._

_I'ev tried ignoring him. I've tried being rude. Told him to go away. Made excuses. Hidden behind a bush even. Gone to different parts of the park. Of the town._

_But it always came back to _this_._

_I closed my book and set it aside. "Hello, Jack."_

_He sat down on the fountain wall beside me, then offered a cup. "Coffee?" he asked._

_"Where's it from?"_

_He nodded to a nearby concession stand._

_"If it kills me, I'm coming back to haunt you."_

_He smiled that disarming smile, then put his own cup to his lips. A gulp. Then another. When he wa done he smacked his lips, sighed happily, and relaxed. "Yeah? Well, that wouldn't be so bad."_

_"Forever," I said, sniffing the swill in my cup. It didn't look appealing. "And I'll frighten you at the most awkward moments possible."_

_He shrugged and leaned back some, propping himself up with an arm. "Don't think you've got the patience for that."_

_"I can sit for five minutes and refrain from hitting you. Most people can't. I think I can handle haunting you forever." I put the foam cup to my lips and threw my head back._

_The tepid liquid wasn't half bad actually. Strong, bold flavor. Slightly off, as was to be expected from a dubious source. After my cup was empty I kept my mouth closed to dissect the after taste. A smooth, nutty flavor..._

_"Hazelnut," I said._

_"Yup," Jack replied._

_We sat silently a moment. Not that I minded. The boy could go a mile a minute when he got started. From the corner of my eye I could see he was looking up at the sky. It had been raining a lot recently. Sunshine seemed so rare._

_**He's probably enjoying it while it lasts.**_

_"Blackbird?" he said, eyes still on the sky._

_"What?"_

_"You're staring," he said. Before I could protest, he continued. "They've opened a new bookstore in town. Heard it's got a coffee shop inside."_

_I sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd asked me to meet him elsewhere. Meet him for more than our daily lunch. But it had been a few weeks since he'd bothered. I had been very rude that day, not having slept well, and took it out on the poor kid._

_"Just thought I'd mention it. Seeing as you've read that one four times now."_

_I frowned. "I like it. It's a good book."_

_"I've only seen you with three. You could probably use some new ones." He grinned. "Plus there's coffee."_

_He had a point. My nomadic existence had caused me to lighten my collection. And I'd stayed in Stoneybrooke long enough to need a little more in the way of posessions. "If I say yes, will you stop asking me to go on childish dates with you?"_

_"I've done no such thing," hereplied. "My intentions have always been innocent and pure gestures of friendship." But that smile when he turned his face from the sky to look at me. That smile and that playful look in his eye, that's what betrayed him. I'd seen that same look before. So many years ago..._

_"Fine," I relented. "Sunday. 3pm. I'll meet you here. If you're late, I'm going home."_

_This was obviously good news, as he reached up to give me a hearty slap on the back and a manic grin. "Great! You're driving, Blackbird."_

_I grit my teeth. "_Stop_ calling me that."_

_"No way. You know you love it."_

_Though it made little sense, and he was extremely annoying... In all honestly I really didn't mind it. Much._


End file.
